


rebuild all your ruins

by badritual



Series: Author's Favorites [22]
Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Canon Divergence, F/M, Friendship, M/M, Non-Famous Family Members As Characters, Self-Acceptance, Self-Discovery, Unrequited Crush, podcasts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-12 17:08:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15344511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badritual/pseuds/badritual
Summary: There are some things Shane just has to wear close to the vest.





	rebuild all your ruins

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blastellanos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blastellanos/gifts).



> This is [Shane](http://nullrefer.com/?https://saddestboner.files.wordpress.com/2018/07/855761174-0.jpg). This is [Nick](http://nullrefer.com/?https://saddestboner.files.wordpress.com/2018/07/usa_today_9985094-0.jpg). This is [Shane and Nick](http://nullrefer.com/?https://saddestboner.files.wordpress.com/2018/07/33139756_2096566573960770_821749186436268032_n.jpg).
> 
>  **Additional Warnings/Notes:** Nick's family members make appearances (though, for all intents and purposes, they're OCs).
> 
> Thanks to [](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/blastellanos/profile)[**blastellanos**](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/blastellanos/) and [](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/tobalance/profile)[**tobalance**](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/tobalance/) for listening to me blather about this thing!
> 
> Title from "Immigration Song," by Led Zeppelin.

Shane’s just fucking around on his iPhone, waiting for Nick to show up, when the door to the recording studio opens and Nick walks in with Liam hanging around his neck. Nick reaches up and pats Liam’s little hands.

“All right, monkey, get down. You gotta go with Grandma now.” Nick untwines Liam’s arms from around his neck and sets him down on the hardwood. 

Nick’s mom steps in and clasps Liam’s hand in hers. She gives Shane a nod and Shane lowers his phone, nodding back politely. 

Shane doesn’t think Nick’s mom likes him much, but no sweat off his back. He doesn’t care if anyone likes him.

(Which is a lie. He really wants Nick’s mom to like him, but he’d never admit that, least of all to himself.)

After Nick’s mom ushers Liam off and gently shuts the door behind them, Nick grabs a rolling chair and settles down in it. 

“You ready for round two?” Nick grins at him and knocks his elbow into Shane’s. 

Nick is so _Nick_ , Shane can’t help but roll his eyes. He sets his phone aside and shoves Nick’s elbow away.

“I’ve only been waiting for, like, the last half hour,” Shane snarks. 

“Sorry. But you know how it is,” Nick says, gesturing off in the direction his mom took Liam.

Shane _doesn’t_ know, but he nods anyway. “Yeah, of course.”

Nick passes a yellow legal pad over to Shane—with notes for their podcast scribbled on it in his nearly unreadable chicken scratch—and Shane adds some notes of his own before sliding it back over to Nick.

They do that for a few more minutes, passing the notepad back and forth, until the page is all full up with their scribbles. Nick’s doodled some ducks in the margins that Shane adds thought bubbles—with dirty jokes—to.

“You ready?” Nick holds out his knuckles to Shane, who fistbumps him obligingly. 

“Always, man.” Shane drops his fist, Nick passes him his headset, and taps the **record** button on his mic.

Nick turns his baseball cap around on his head and leans in. “Welcome to the second episode of the Six One Nine podcast, everybody! We hope we got your gray matter stirring over the hiatus…”

*** 

Afterward, Shane and Nick go out to lunch with Nick’s mom, Liam, and Jessica. Shane can’t help but feel like a third—maybe even fourth—wheel, as Nick and Jessica squeeze into a booth together and Liam sits with Michelle. Shane pulls a chair up to the table and Liam hands him blue and red Crayons, babbling cheerily about all the games his grandma played with him.

Shane obligingly takes a red Crayon from Liam. “What was your favorite game, Li?” Shane asks him.

Liam beams at him. “Grandma showed me how to play card games on her iPad,” he announces.

Jessica laughs prettily and leans over to ruffle Liam’s light brown hair. “Is Grandma teaching you solitaire, Li?” she chimes in.

Shane fights down a sudden, unwelcome surge of jealousy. But it’s not like Liam’s more his family than Jessica’s. It’s hard to miss the big, shiny—and new—rock sitting on the fourth finger of her left hand. 

Contrary to popular belief, Shane actually likes Jessica. She’s good for Nick, he truly believes it. Actually, she’s probably better for Nick than Vanessa was, though he’d never give voice to these less than charitable thoughts. Vanessa was a sweet girl, but she had a hard time keeping up with Nick and his various neuroses. Jessica won’t put up with his shit and isn’t afraid to smack him down when she has to. 

Nick hasn’t asked him yet, but Shane thinks he’s working up to asking Shane to stand up in his wedding for him. 

Him and Nick might be _bros_ but of course Nick will ask his actual brother Ryan to be his best man. Shane wouldn’t mind standing up for him, though. 

Liam shoves another Crayon into Shane’s hand. This one is purple. “Shane! Can you drawed me a dinosaur?” he asks.

Nick reaches out with one of his impossibly long arms and ruffles Liam’s hair too, grinning that big dopey grin of his. “It’s _draw_ , Li. Not _drawed_.”

Liam shakes Nick’s hand out of his hair and Jessica giggles behind her hand, the diamond glimmering and winking at Shane. 

“Yes. I can drawed you a dinosaur,” Shane says, giving Liam a conspiratorial wink.

Liam’s gap-toothed grin stretches from ear to ear. 

*** 

Jessica and Nick’s mom take Liam to put him to bed, and Nick and Shane go out to drink beers on the deck. A light summer breeze rustles Nick’s thick black hair, pushing it off his forehead, and Shane’s hand itches to reach over and fuss with it. He just tightens his hand around his IPA instead. 

They’re drinking in companionable silence when Nick turns in his lawn chair to face Shane, his beer resting on his knee. “You’re real good with Li,” he says out of the blue.

“Uh, thanks?” Shane lifts his bottle to take a slug.

“No, I mean… You ever thought of, like, I dunno. Settling down? Finding some girl and having one or two of your own?” he asks.

Shane turns and frowns at Nick. “Eventually, I guess. Why?”

He doesn’t think he’s going to like where this line of questioning seems to be going. 

Nick just shrugs at him. The faint light from the porch lights casts him in an orangey glow, tipping his skin in gold. Shane looks away and lifts the slippery bottle of beer back to his lips. 

“You’re, like, thirty, right?” Nick says. 

Shane sighs. He really does _not_ want to have this conversation with Nick. “Why’re you interested in whether or not I get some chick knocked up all of a sudden?” he grumbles. 

“You’re pretty much my best friend, bro. I wanna see you livin’ your best life, you know?” Nick sets his bottle down next to his lawn chair with a sloshy thump. 

“Who says I’m not?” Shane asks, tipping his head back and draining the last of his beer. “And if you were really my best friend, you’d know I’m not thirty yet.”

“Touché.” Nick folds his arms behind his head. 

Shane stares up at the night sky. Nick’s breathing is quiet and steady beside him, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d assume Nick had fallen asleep. But he can hear Nick fumbling with the bottle of beer by his chair.

The truth is, Nick probably _is_ his best friend. But there are some things he just can’t tell him. 

There are some things Shane just has to wear close to the vest. 

Shane reaches for his bottle before he remembers it’s empty. 

“I’m gonna head back in for another brew,” Shane mumbles.

“Here. Lemme get it.” 

Shane feels Nick’s fingers brushing against his as he pries the bottle from his grasp. It’s dark enough out that Shane can barely see Nick now, except for a few charcoal smears illuminated by the faint porch light. The sizzle of insects hitting the light zapper, crickets chirping in the distance, a dog barking faintly, a light breeze brushing against Shane’s cheek round out the summer evening. 

There’s a chill to the air now, though. His troublesome right arm, from his shoulder to the tips of his fingers, is mostly numb and tingly and cold and he fights the urge to blow on his hand like he’s pitching in the bottom of the ninth at Comerica. 

Shane lets Nick slip the bottle from his fingers without much of a fight. He feels Nick’s hand press lightly over his shoulder as he passes his chair.

For a second, Shane thinks about reaching out and catching hold of Nick’s hand but Nick passes him by for the house before he can make up his mind. 

Shane listens to the sliding door scrape open and then thump shut behind him. 

*** 

_“Welcome to episode number three of the Six One Nine Pod!”_

_“Coming to you live from Nick Castellanos’s mom’s basement!”_

_“Shut the fuck up.”_

_“We’re gonna have to edit out all the curse words. Sorry, kids. Nicholas’s got a dirty mouth.”_

_“Fuck off, Shane.”_

_“We’re just gonna have to, like, start over completely. Chalk up a big, fat ‘L’ on this one.”_

*** 

Shane’s sitting on Nick’s living room floor, his legs spread, rolling a rubber ball back and forth with Liam across the hardwood. He can hear the clicking of Jessica’s footsteps and Nick’s ungainly stomping as they get ready for whatever black-tie event Nick got roped into by the front office that evening. 

“Thanks for babysitting, Greeney.” Nick rushes through the living room, pausing long enough to plant a kiss atop Liam’s sandy hair. 

“What about my goodbye kiss?” Shane jokes, as Liam rolls his ball back over to Shane.

Nick laughs good-naturedly and swipes at the back of Shane’s head. “We should be back around midnight but if we’re running late I’ll text or call you.” Nick fusses with one of his shiny gold cufflinks. 

His tuxedo’s a little big for him, especially in the shoulders, but he doesn’t look terrible. Shane wants to smooth the wrinkles out of his lapels but he keeps his hands to himself.

Jessica materializes by his side as she shrugs a faux fur stole over her shoulders. She’s dripping in diamonds and wrapped up in gold silk. Jessica hooks her hand in Nick’s elbow and smiles sweetly at Shane. 

“Thanks for doing this, Shane,” she says, as she reaches up to brush something off Nick’s shoulder.

Shane gives her a slight smile. “No worries.” 

Liam’s bouncy ball catches Shane in the side of the head and he turns slowly to glare at Liam exaggeratedly. Liam just squeals with delight and Shane can’t help but let a smile sneak back onto his face.

“Don’t give Greeney a hard time, okay, Li?” Nick stoops down and scoops Liam up in his arms.

“Careful, hon, you’re gonna wrinkle your tux.” Jessica fusses with his lapel some and the fingers on Shane’s right hand itch. 

“It’ll be fine,” Nick says, blithely, as he starts tossing Liam in the air overhead. 

“Nick!” Jessica scolds.

Liam squeals some more, delighted, and Shane laughs too. 

“You’re terrible,” Jessica sighs.

Nick sets Liam back down and grins at her. “That’s why you love me. You like that I’m terrible.”

Shane resists rolling his eyes. He thinks he deserves a medal for his restraint.

Jessica laughs, indulgently, and takes Nick’s hand in hers. 

Shane turns his attention back to Liam and picks up the bouncy ball. He holds it out and Liam snatches it away. 

Nick gives Shane’s aching elbow a light squeeze. 

“You’re a pal, Shane,” Nick says, beaming.

Jessica tugs on his hand and they head out, the front door thudding shut behind them. 

“Uncle Shane!” Liam’s voice calls out from the kitchen. 

Shane looks at the closed door for a few more moments before he turns and joins Liam in the kitchen where they have grape juice boxes and Shane makes them both grilled cheese sandwiches with the crusts cut off.

*** 

Shane’s half-asleep on the living room couch with Liam’s head tucked under his numb right arm when someone flicks him in the forehead. He wakes with a start, flailing, surprising Liam awake. He whines a little but settles back down against Shane’s side.

Shane puts an arm around Liam, protectively, before his eyes adjust to the dark and he realizes Nick is looming over him. His tux is rumpled and his bowtie is dangling from around his neck. 

“Kid got you tuckered out?” Nick asks, squeezing next to the two of them on the couch, putting his socked feet up on the coffee table. He pulls Liam into his arms and the kid’s out like a light in a matter of seconds, his head coming to rest on Nick’s shoulder.

“He’s pretty high energy.” Shane yawns and stretches his arms overhead. Pins and needles prickle up and down his right arm and he must not hide it well enough because Nick’s carefully shifting Liam out of his arms and reaching for Shane’s arm.

“Here. Lemme…” Nick prods gently at his arm.

“It’s fine. Just fell asleep on me,” Shane says, trying to jerk his arm away from Nick.

“I got magic fingers,” Nick brags. “Jessica says—”

“Dude, you are _not_ —” Shane renews his efforts to pull his arm away.

“Save your gay freakout. I ain’t putting the moves on you,” Nick scoffs.

Shane settles back down next to Nick, frowning and staring off in the dark. It’s a good thing it’s too dark for Nick to see the expression on Shane’s face as he rubs his arm down. 

“I’m not having a gay freakout,” Shane snaps, unnecessarily.

“Oh, calm down.” Nick finishes rubbing Shane’s arm and gives him a gentle shove. “If I was putting the moves on you, you’d know.”

“I didn’t think you were—” Shane starts up again, but Nick slugs him in the arm he just massaged some feeling back into.

“Shut up,” Nick says.

“Ow.” Shane rubs his arm and glares at Nick. He slugs Nick in the chest. “Fuck you.”

Nick rears back to slug him again when Liam lifts his head off Nick’s shoulder. 

“Daddy?” Liam asks sleepily.

Nick uncurls his fist, having the decency to look sheepish. “Did we wake you up, monkey?” he asks, leaning in to press his lips against Liam’s forehead.

Liam gives him a slight nod. “Where’s Jessie?” he asks.

“She went upstairs to bed,” Nick says, brushing Liam’s hair off his forehead. “Like _you_ should be going to bed, too.”

“I’m not tired.” Liam’s yawn betrays him. 

“C’mon, kiddo.” Nick picks Liam up and slings him over his shoulder in a fireman carry.

Shane gets up too, feeling awkward and out of place suddenly, like a third boob or a second head. 

“Is Uncle Shane staying the night?” Liam asks. 

Nick looks over at Shane for a moment. “Greeney’s gotta go home and get to sleep too, monkey. Let’s go.”

“I want Shane to spend the night!” Liam squalls, kicking his little legs and waving his little fists as Nick hoists him up and carries him out of the living room.

“I gotta go home, Li,” Shane cups his hands around his mouth and calls out after them. “But I’ll see you at the park tomorrow.”

Nick thumps up the stairs with Liam and Shane goes into the kitchen to empty the trash and pick up a little before he goes.

Nick wanders into the kitchen while Shane’s bagging up the trash and recyclables. 

“You don’t have to bother with that,” Nick says.

Shane kicks the cupboard door shut and picks up the garbage bags. “It’s no problem.”

Nick looks at Shane, his eyes narrowing for a moment and—for the briefest of moments—Shane feels like Nick’s really _seeing_ him. Which is some disconcerting shit, because most of the time Nick’s a fucking space cadet. He’s usually only got enough attention span for baseball, Jessica, and Liam. Shane feels grateful that Nick remembers he exists most of the time, and that he’s still interested in doing the podcast.

“What?” Shane asks, dropping the garbage bags on the hardwood.

Nick is quiet for a few more incredibly long seconds before he shakes his head. “Nothing, man.” He reaches out and whacks Shane on the shoulder. “I ran into Iggy at the charity thing and he said he wanted to guest star on the pod.”

Shane wonders what the hell they’re gonna do for an hour with Iggy on the pod, but he just nods. “Sounds cool, man.”

“And that buddy of mine I told you about’s whipping up some shirt designs for us,” Nick says, breaking into a grin.

“Sounds good.” 

Nick frowns again and Shane tries to edge his way around him, but Nick grabs him by the bad arm again. “You okay, man?”

“Dude, I’m fine,” Shane says. “But you grab me by that arm again and we’re gonna have problems.”

Nick lets go of him and moves away so Shane can pass by. “It’s bothering you again, huh?”

“It’s always bothering me,” Shane says, rolling his eyes. “Kinda like you, Casty.”

Nick rolls his eyes. “Oh, I’m _Casty_ now?”

“You’re Nick when I like you. Casty when you get on my nerves,” Shane jokes, though it’s a little too on the nose. 

“All right, man,” Nick says, shaking his head, still smiling a little though the light’s dimmed behind his eyes slightly. “I’ll let you go. You’re probably tired.”

“Yeah, man. See you tomorrow. I’ll put this in the trash.” Shane lifts the plastic garbage bags and shakes them. Some bottle and cans rattle around. 

Nick gives him a nod and Shane finally slips around him for the exit. 

As he gets the front door open, Shane thinks he hears Nick say his name, but he doesn’t turn around. He just pretends he didn’t hear anything and he shuts the door gently behind him.

*** 

_“Welcome to the newest episode of your favorite podcast, Six One Nine Pod!”_

_“Coming live to you from the bowels of Comerica Park.”_

_“Bowels? That’s kinda gross, Shane.”_

_“Well, how else would you describe this place, Nicholas?”_

_“Um… It’s kinda bowels-y, I guess.”_

_“See?”_

_“Yeah, yeah. Anyways, we got a special guest lined up for you guys.”_

_“Real exciting.”_

_“Yeah, super exciting stuff. José Iglesias will be joining us from a remote location in—”_

_“Iggy’s joining us from the lower intestines of—”_

_“Shut up, Shane.”_

_“ **You** shut up, Nick.”_

*** 

It’s Family Day at the ballpark and Nick has, like, a whole army of Castellanoses trailing after him like ducklings. Little Liam sits on his shoulders and Jessica is latched onto his arm and his parents—long divorced but still super friendly—follow after him with Jackie and Ryan bringing up the rear. 

Shane’s own family couldn’t make the trip, but he FaceTimed with his parents before coming to the ballpark. So it’s not _all_ bad.

Shane rubs his thumb over the _Family First_ inked on his arm in sprawling black ink. 

“Daddy! Daddy, watch!” 

Shane looks up to catch an eyeful of Liam flying a remote-controlled toy drone. He can’t help but laugh as he watches the drone swoop dangerously close to the outfield grass where Liam and some of his other teammates’ kids are playing. The McCann twins are lolling on a blanket next to Jess and James, and Shane starts trotting over to them to say hi when he gets intercepted with an arm around his waist.

“Yo, we’re all going out to eat afterwards,” Nick says a little too loud, too close to Shane’s ear. “You wanna come with?”

“Isn’t this supposed to be _Family_ Day?” Shane asks, gently elbowing Nick away from him.

“You’re kinda family too,” Nick says, grabbing Shane by the shoulder and jostling him.

Shane lifts his eyes and catches Jackie and Ryan watching them, whispering amongst themselves. 

“I don’t think anyone’ll buy that I’m a Castellanos,” Shane quips. “Y’all got your dad’s schnozz.”

“Shut up about my dad’s schnozz.” Nick punches Shane lightly in the shoulder. “So, you’re coming out with us.”

“I guess I don’t got much of a choice,” Shane says, letting Nick punch him again. 

“Nope!” Nick grins at Shane, shoving his face dangerously close for a moment before he’s off and running after Liam like Nick’s the one who’s a kid. 

Shane just watches the two of them gallop and tumble through the grass, unable to help a smile from sneaking onto his face. When he realizes he’s feeling a little soft toward Nick, he looks around quickly and catches Nick’s sister watching him with an all too knowing look in her eyes. 

He looks away, feeling the back of his neck heat up under the harsh spotlights of her eyes. 

*** 

Shane gets seated between Jackie and Ryan at the Castellanos family brunch. If he didn’t know any better he’d think Nick and Michelle were subtly trying to fix him up with Nick’s sister. 

Jackie’s pretty, Shane’s usual type with long blond hair, muscles, and expressive dark eyes. 

There’s just one tiny problem. 

“So, what’ve you been up to?” he asks her anyway, figuring he might as well give it a shot. Nick looks too hopeful for Shane to disappoint him by failing to drum up the proper amount of interest in his kid sister. 

“Med school, med school, and more med school,” Jackie says. “And a little modeling on the side.”

“What you do ain’t modeling,” Nick teases her. “Insta modeling don’t count.”

“Nicholas, be nice,” his mom scolds.

“Oh, fuck off,” Jackie snaps at him. 

Shane lifts his fist to her and they bump knuckles. 

“You’re just jealous nobody’d pay you to show off your ugly mug,” Shane says to Nick, maybe a little meanly. 

“Hey. I do just fine for myself,” Nick says, having the gall to sound affronted.

“You do _just_ fine, baby.” Jessica pats him on the hand and smiles sweetly at him.

Shane and Jackie glance at each other as if on cue and roll their eyes. 

He laughs and she smiles at him, leaning a little closer, close enough that he can smell her light perfume. 

“They’re so gross,” Jackie whispers overly loud, for Nick and Jessica’s benefit.

“The grossest,” Shane whispers back.

“You never know,” Nick’s mom says, as she lifts her champagne flute. “Maybe you two’ll be next.”

“ _God _, Mom. Way to just reveal our evil plans,” Nick huffs.__

Shane and Jackie share another conspiratorial laugh before Jackie slips away from the table to sneak a cigarette outside a few minutes later. Shane joins her in front of the restaurant to keep her company and, mostly, to avoid being stuck across from the two lovebirds.

Jackie has a leather jacket slung over her shoulder and when he moves closer, he notices the wisps of a tattoo snaking out of the collar of her blouse. 

“Sorry about them,” Jackie says, as she puffs away on her cigarette. “My mom’s going nuts for more weddings and grandkids ever since Nicky got divorced. She’s been, like, foisting me off on all his friends.”

“It’s okay,” Shane says. “I don’t mind.”

Jackie looks over at him, her eyebrows arching off her forehead. “Not exactly a ringing endorsement,” she says, dryly.

“I didn’t mean it like... however that came out sounding,” Shane says, feeling a little bad.

“Nah, it’s fine.” Jackie lets the cigarette slip from between her fingers and she grinds it out under the heel of her boot. She slips the jacket back on and pats down one of her pockets. “Actually, I’ve got somewhere to be. I can drop you off wherever if you don’t wanna be stuck with Romeo and Juliet.”

Shane doesn’t bother telling her Romeo and Juliet came to a bad end. 

“That’s okay,” he says. “It’s not so bad.”

“Suit yourself, man.” Jackie pulls out her keys and flounces off, her blond hair shining under the midday sun like fool’s gold.

Shane heads back in and slides into his seat across from Nick and Jessica.

“Where’d Jackie go?” Nick’s mom asks, looking around, frowning a little.

“She said she had somewhere to be,” Shane says.

Nick’s mom just shakes her head and clucks her tongue like a mother hen. 

When they’re done eating and the bills have been paid, Shane goes off with Nick and Jessica, while Nick’s parents and brother head back to their hotel. 

Shane piles into the back with Liam, who seems delighted to have Shane all to himself. Liam pulls Lego men out of a little Ziploc bag and keeps handing them off to Shane.

“Sorry about my mom,” Nick calls out to Shane as they cruise along.

“It’s cool, man. Glad she thinks enough of me to want me, like, dating your sister,” he says, taking a Lego man from Liam.

“I mean, I guess…” Nick trails off, not finishing his thought.

Shane lets it go. Probably for the best, he thinks.

“If you marry Aunt Jackie you’ll be Uncle Shane for real,” Liam says, grinning and bouncing his legs excitedly.

“Your Aunt Jackie and me are just friends,” Shane says.

“Like Daddy and you,” Liam says, giving Shane a decisive nod. 

Shane ignores the twisting in his gut. “Yep. Just like your daddy and me,” he says.

He catches a fluttering of movement in the periphery and he lifts his head to catch Jessica turning in her seat to look back at him and Liam. When she realizes Shane’s watching her she turns back around.

Shane can’t help but wonder what Jessica was looking for. What she thought she’d see when she did. 

*** 

_“This is a milestone, folks. Our fifth episode of the Six One Nine Pod.”_

_“I don’t think that counts as milestone, Nicholas.”_

_“Don’t you dare **Nicholas** me, Shane-athan.”_

_“Dude, shut the fuck up.”_

_“Shane-iel.”_

*** 

Shane’s in the kitchen chopping veggies on a cutting board while Liam stands next to him on a little step-stool, directing the action.

“Now chop the carrots!” Liam points a wooden spoon at Shane, imperiously.

“Already chopped the carrots,” Shane says, as he scoops them off the cutting board and into a waiting pot. “Time for the onions.”

“Don’t like the onions,” Liam says, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

“What’s a stew without onions?” Shane asks, putting the pot aside to grab Liam and toss him in the air.

Liam squeals excitedly. “Onions are gross! Grandma makes me eat onions!”

“ ’Cause the gross stuff’s good for you.” Nick steps into the kitchen and drops his jacket over the back of a chair. “Thanks for watching him again, Greeney.”

“No prob, man. Think Liam was doing most of the watching anyways.” Shane stops tossing Liam in the air and sets him back down on the floor. “I’m almost done with this, then I’ll get outta your guys’s hair.”

“You’re not staying for dinner?” Nick asks.

“I figured you’d want some family time with Li and Jess,” Shane says, shrugging at him. “And I got plans.”

It’s not exactly the truth, but whatever. Shane doesn’t fit into their Norman Rockwell family painting. It’s fine. Shane is fine with it.

Nick shakes his head a little as he bends down to pick Liam up. “Suit yourself, man. But you’re always welcome to stick around if you want.”

“I know. It’s cool, Casty.” Shane reaches up to unknot the ties of the apron he’s wearing.

Nick lets Liam down and he scampers upstairs. Shane kind of wishes he could escape too.

“Casty? Now I know something’s going on with you,” Nick says. “What’s up?”

Shane tugs the apron off and balls it in his hands. “Why’s something have to be going on, man? Everything’s cool.”

“You only call me Casty when I’m pissing you off and I’ve been gone for most of the day,” Nick points out, matter-of-factly.

Shane resists a biting comment. Like: _Didn’t think you’d notice, considering you have the attention span of a goldfish._

“Like I said. Everything’s cool.” Shane walks over to Nick and stuffs the balled-up apron in his hands. “I’ll see you at the park tomorrow.”

Shane goes to move away but Nick reaches out and grabs him by the wrist. His stupid achy arm twinges and, for a split second, he considers kicking Nick in the shin.

“You’ve been weird for a while, man,” Nick says. “I haven’t said anything ’cause Jess thought it might be—”

“You’ve been talking about my shit with your _fiancée_?” Shane asks, jerking his arm away, ignoring the flare of pain that shoots down his forearm. “Dude, that’s over the fucking line.”

“You’re my best friend and you’ve been acting weird as fuck lately,” Nick says, shoving the apron back into Shane’s chest. Shane lets it fall to the floor. “What was I _supposed_ to do?”

“I dunno, come talk to _me_ instead?” Shane snaps, kicking angrily at the fallen apron. 

“Like you would’ve said anything?” Nick asks.

That gives Shane pause. After a thoughtful silence, he says, “No. Probably not. But you don’t just go talking about people’s shit with _other_ fucking people, Nick.”

“I didn’t mean it to be mean or anything!” Nick protests. He presses his hand over his chest. “I was worried about you. Hand to God.”

“Take your stupid oaths and shove them up your ass.” Shane pushes past Nick and out of the kitchen.

He’s not surprised when he hears Nick thump after him.

“What’s your fucking problem?”

“You’re my fucking problem. I’m going the fuck home.” Shane stomps into the foyer and throws the door open. 

“Dude. Shane. Greeney. I’m sorry. Okay? I’m sorry I talked with Jessica about your shit. But I talk to her about everything. Including you,” Nick says, hurrying up behind Shane to grab onto the door before he can throw it open. 

Shane pauses to lance Nick with what he hopes is a withering glare. Nick has the good sense to look sheepish and almost remorseful. Almost but not quite. 

“What the fuck are you telling her about me, anyway?” Shane asks, his heartbeat thundering in his chest. He wipes his suddenly sweaty palms off on his board shorts.

“Why’s it matter so much to you?” 

Shane tries to pull the door open so he can slip through, but Nick’s got ahold of it.

“It just does. And it’s none of your business. Or your fiancée’s.” Shane glares pointedly at Nick.

Nick shakes his head, but he pulls his hand away from the door and Shane throws it open. The summer air hits Shane in the face like a blast of heat from a furnace. He angrily fumbles his keys out of his pants pocket and grips them tightly, the teeth of his house key digging painfully into his palm. 

“Dude, I fucked up,” Nick calls out after him. “I’m sorry. I won’t talk to Jess about you anymore.”

Shane turns and looks at Nick over his shoulder.

Nick is slumped in the doorway, looking sad and defeated.

Shane wishes he could feel some sense of satisfaction, but he doesn’t. He just feels…

Well, Shane doesn’t know how he feels. 

“Thanks,” he mumbles. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“We still on for recording Six One Nine?” Nick asks.

Shane looks away, chewing savagely on the inside of his cheek. 

“Yeah,” he says quietly, and he starts down the walkway that winds away from Nick’s house, to his waiting truck.

*** 

_“It’s Six One Nine coming to you live with Nicholas Castellanos and special guest podcaster James ‘Jimmy Mack’ McCann.”_

_“Since I’m fillin’ in for Shane this week, shouldn’t we be the Three Four Nine Pod?”_

_“More like Nine Three Four. Anyways, if we rename it while Greeney’s off taking his sabbatical he’s probably gonna think I replaced him.”_

_“You kind of did.”_

_“Not, like, **permanently**!”_

_“You’re a terrible friend, Nick.”_

_“Don’t gotta remind me, Mac. Don’t gotta remind me.”_

_“Now we’re getting a little maudlin.”_

_“Whipping out the big thesaurus words, are we?”_

_“Maudlin’s a big thesaurus word?”_

_“Ah. You’ll fit in just fine.”_

*** 

Shane has a hard time looking Jessica in the eye after he finds out Nick’s been talking to her about him. He can’t help but think back to that time in the car, when he caught her watching him out of the corner of his eye. He replays that moment over and over in his head sometimes, when he has trouble sleeping. He’d really like to know what she was thinking, but he also very much does _not_ want to know what she was thinking. 

He listens to the podcast Nick does with James after he ducks out for the week. It’s okay, though James is kind of boring and they don’t quite have the rapport that he and Nick do. James talks a lot about hunting and fishing and Jesus, while Nick does his best to steer him and keep him on topic. 

Shane decides he won’t skip out on Nick next time, no matter how pissed he is at him. 

Shane’s lounging in the family area, his noise-cancelling headphones wrapped around his head, some classical music piping out. Not his usual flavor of music—Shane prefers hip-hop almost exclusively, with some old-school slow jams mixed in every now and then—but he’s been feeling edgy ever since that night at Nick’s place and he hopes soft, flowy classical will do the trick.

It doesn’t help as much as he was hoping it would, but that might be because he’s fucking around on his phone and the headphones are half-on, half-off.

The door to the family lounge bangs open and Nick marches in with Liam on his hip and Jessica hanging off his arm.

“Uncle Shane!” Liam starts wriggling uncontrollably, his legs kicking, so Nick sets him down and Liam scampers over to Shane.

Shane scoops Liam up and tosses him in the air. “Hey, buddy.”

“Where you been, Uncle Shane?” Liam asks, giggling when Shane flips him onto his shoulders.

Jessica folds Liam’s hoodie over one of her arms, gives Nick a peck on the cheek, and heads out the door. 

Shane wonders if this was a coordinated Castellanos family attack.

“I’ve been real busy, Li,” Shane lies. He’s mostly been spending his time playing Call of Duty: Black Ops and shooting the hell out of obnoxious, potty-mouthed high school kids. 

“Doing baseball?” Liam asks, wrapping his arms around Shane’s forehead.

“Yep. Doing baseball.” Shane wanders over toward Nick.

“Doing baseball,” Nick echoes, sounding skeptical.

“I’ve been busy,” Shane says, feeling like an asshole. It’s not like he didn’t have a good excuse, but he just feels bad for avoiding Nick and his family this last week anyway. 

“Are you still pissed off about me talking to Jess about your shit?” Nick asks.

“Way to cut to the chase, Casty,” Shane says.

Nick rolls his eyes. “Yep, still pissy.” 

“Not _that_ pissy,” Shane says, flaring defensively. 

“Look, let’s not rehash it. I’m here to make a peace offering,” Nick says. He reaches out and gives Shane’s bad elbow a gentle squeeze. “Thought we could grab some grub and knock out some podcast ideas.”

“With Jessica?” Shane asks.

“Actually, she and my mom are taking Li to the Belle Isle aquarium. So you got me to yourself for the evening,” Nick says.

Shane’s heart jumps up into his throat and starts thudding so wildly, so loudly he wonders if Nick can hear it. He’s also not so sure spending time alone with Nick is in his best interests.

“I mean… I guess we could, if you want,” Shane says.

Nick slugs him lightly in the chest. “Of course I do, man. C’mon. How else we gonna keep the podcast fresh and up to date if we don’t work on our material?”

Shane rubs his chest where Nick hit him. “I guess you have a point.”

“Of course I do,” Nick says, slipping his arm around Shane. He lets Nick pull him into his shoulder. One of Nick’s hands finds Shane’s hair and musses it up.

Shane reaches up and pats his hair back down. “Okay, fine. It’s a date.”

He feels like he’s dancing on the razor’s edge of _something_ , though Shane has no idea if it’s a good thing or bad. Nick’s arm is still around his shoulders and he’s close enough that Shane can identify the noxious cologne he’s wearing—some sort of Armani shit—and he can see the stubble dusting Nick’s jaw. 

Shane flicks his eyes away from the line of Nick’s jaw.

“All right, let’s go.” Nick gives Shane one last squeeze before he slips his arm away and trots out of the family lounge.

Shane stays sitting where he was when Nick burst in and upended everything yet again.

*** 

Things sort of go back to normal after that, though Shane starts to wonder if anything’s ever been _normal_ when Nick is involved. 

It’s almost like the knot of tension that had been winding and winding around Shane has snapped. Or, at the very least, loosened. 

Wedding planning kicks into overdrive, and it’s suddenly the only thing anyone wants to talk about. Nick brings fabric swatches into the clubhouse to gauge their teammates’ opinions and Jessica even stops by to have Shane and James measured for their suits since they’re both standing up in the wedding. It’s getting more and more difficult to avoid it.

Shane walks into the dining area and stumbles into the middle of a discussion between Nick, Jessica, and James.

“My mom wants it at our family church,” Jessica’s saying, playing with a curl of brown hair. She snaps a wad of gum between her teeth and then gnaws on it almost anxiously. “She’s not Cuban though, she’s Southern Baptist. So, I dunno.”

“And my mom wants it at our _Cubano_ church,” Nick says, draping an arm over Jessica’s shoulders. He grins broadly, looking far too happy to be detailing this family feud. “Our moms are, like, literally not speaking to each other right now.”

James nods sagely, like he’s been appointed by God Himself to settle this dispute. “Well, who’s payin’ for this shindig?”

Jessica taps Nick in the center of the chest with her index finger. “He is.”

“Then I think Nick’s opinion probably carries the most weight here,” James says.

“Excuse me?” Jessica narrows her eyes at him, but Shane can see the hint of a smile at the corners of her mouth.

“I dunno why y’all asked me to settle this,” James says, throwing up his hands

Shane heads over to the microwave and pops the door open.

“Hey, Greeney,” Nick calls out to him.

“Hey,” Shane calls back. 

“You wanna weigh in on our lively debate topic?” Nick asks.

“I should probably abstain,” Shane says.

“That’s no fun,” Nick says, with a cackle. He jabs Jessica lightly in the side with his elbow.

Shane rolls his eyes, tosses open a cupboard door and pulls down a plastic bag of Styrofoam cups. He turns them over in his hands, inspecting them, before tossing them back in and forgetting all about them. 

He feels restless, itchy and antsy, the edginess from earlier crawling under his skin like a million tiny insect legs. He rubs at his bad arm some more, wondering if it’s just the nerve thing flaring up again.

James, Jessica, and Nick lapse into a conversation about the scripture that’ll be read during the service. There are a couple standard readings the church offers and would James like to read one?

“Of course,” James says, ever the Boy Scout. “I’d be honored.”

Shane wonders if they’re going to ask him too, then figures he ought to make himself scarce just in case they do. 

Shane’s got one foot out the door when Nick calls out, “Hey, Greeney.”

“Yeah?” Shane lingers in the doorway.

Nick leans back in his seat, slinging his arm over the back. He grins that big, dopey grin of his and drums his fingers on the back of the chair. 

“You wanna do one of the readings?” Nick asks.

Shane swallows and it sticks in his throat. “Um, sure,” he says, feeling helpless, feeling adrift with no sign of land. “I’d love to.”

Nick beams at Shane, his eyes crinkling, before turning back around in his seat and slipping Jessica’s small hand in his own. 

For a moment, Shane feels like he did the right thing. He gave the right answer to a test he hadn’t been aware he was taking. 

He still beats it out of there before they can ask him to do anything else.

*** 

Shane’s getting his stuff set up in the recording studio when Nick lets himself in and shuts the door quietly behind him. He holds a Starbucks out to Shane, who takes it and pops the plastic lid off. 

“Thanks, man. What’s the occasion?” Shane asks, taking a measured sip of scalding hot venti mocha frapp.

“Felt like being nice to you. For some reason,” Nick says, slumping in the chair opposite Shane. He tugs his gray woolen cap off his head and scratches at his tufty black hair. He sticks his foot out and knocks against Shane’s sole.

“It’s ’cause I’m your best friend,” Shane informs him, sipping some more of his frapp. 

“Something like that.” Nick snorts. He shrugs off his hoodie and picks up his headset. “What’s up with you, man? It’s been a few.”

“It’s been two days. Not that I’ve been counting,” Shane says, rolling his eyes. 

“I bet you’ve been marking off the days on your wall calendar,” Nick says.

“I don’t have a wall calendar, Nick.”

“Oh,” Nick says. “I’m back to being Nick now. That mean you done being mad at me?” 

“I was never mad at you,” Shane says, scowling. 

“You were, but it’s cool.” Nick bares his teeth in a feral smile. 

Shane rolls his eyes and reaches out to swipe him upside the head. “You’re such a fucking loser.”

“Good thing you like losers, huh?” Nick asks. “Dunno where I’d be without you and your terrible taste in best friends.” 

“Whatever, man. I was just thinking the other day I should make Hicksy my new best friend,” Shane says. 

Nick splutters. “ _Hicksy_?”

“He bakes a mean cheesecake,” Shane says.

“Dude, fuck you.” Nick reaches out to punch Shane in the arm but Shane grabs him by the wrist before he can connect. 

“Why are you hitting yourself?” Shane punches Nick in the jaw lightly with his own hand.

“Fuck you. I don’t have to put up with this.” Nick tries to twist his wrist out of Shane’s grip.

“Do it for the podcast.” Shane lets Nick pull his arm away though.

He feels a little better about things now, though he can’t really put his finger on why. 

*** 

_“Welcome to the official Six One Nine Pod All-Star Game Extravaganza!”_

_“But only one of us is an All-Star.”_

_“But we’re both All-Star podcasters.”_

_“Wow. Thanks, Nick.”_

_“You’re welcome. Thanks for coming with me as my plus-one, by the way.”_

_“If you don’t get me one of those complementary baskets of fancy soaps and shampoos, this friendship is over.”_

_“ **God** , you’re demanding.”_

_“You already knew this.”_

_“True, true. Anyways. Me and Shane are here at the Home Run Derby, which neither of us is participating in.”_

_“The Official Major League Home Run Derby. Brought to you by Arby’s.”_

_“We have the meats.”_

_“We’re gonna get sued.”_

*** 

Agreeing to go with Nick as his plus-one—Jessica is backpacking across Europe with her sister for a big chunk of the summer—is probably not the best idea Shane’s ever had. Mostly because Nick gets a suite and puts his parents and Liam up in one room, while he and Shane take the other one. 

So, Shane’s stuck in this hotel room with Nick for the next three days. He might have miscalculated here. 

Nick spends most of his downtime—when he’s not off doing interviews, shooting ads, and other All-Star shit—FaceTiming with Jessica in a hostel in Belgium. Shane can hear them cooing at each other about wedding stuff, what kind of place cards they want, flower arrangements, and do they want to go with a DJ or a live band?

He wishes he had earplugs.

“Me and Vanessa had a live band when we got hitched,” Nick says, sounding thoughtful.

Shane glances over; Nick’s lying on his stomach, a pillow tucked under his chin, while he hunt-and-pecks at his laptop keyboard.

“I don’t wanna hear about your ex, Nick.” Jessica sounds exasperated, like they’ve had this exact conversation many times before. “I _never_ wanna hear about your ex.”

Shane really can’t blame her for that. 

“I’m just sayin’,” Nick says. “Live band’s classy.”

Shane just shakes his head, turns his attention back to his iPhone, and resumes scrolling through his Instagram feed. 

“Plenty of weddings use DJs.”

If he has to listen to another second of this his head is going to explode, so he tucks his phone away in his pocket and goes rooting around for his crosstrainers. He finds them halfway under his bed and he has to practically pull his arm out of his socket to reach them, but he gets them out. After he slips them on, Shane goes looking for his Tigers hoodie. 

Nick looks up from his computer. “Where you headed off to, Greeney?”

“Going for a jog,” Shane says, pulling his hoodie out of a pile of Nick’s stuff. “Why’d you have my hoodie?”

Nick lifts his shoulder in a nonchalant shrug. “I dunno, man. Stuff, it migrates.”

Shane rolls his eyes—he does that a lot around Nick—and pulls it on. “All right, well. I’ll see you later, then.” He zips himself up and grabs his room key off the dresser.

“I won’t be here, man,” Nick says. “I’m meeting up with Hos—Eric Hosmer—and his girl for dinner in a few. You can come too if you want…”

“It’s fine,” Shane says, waving Nick’s offer away. 

Nick frowns a little, his brow furrowing. “You sure about that?”

“Dude, why wouldn’t I be?” Shane asks. “You’re the All-Stars, not me. I’m just here for moral support.”

“Well, Kacie’s not an All-Star either and she’s still coming along,” Nick says, with a laugh.

Shane bristles. “And I’m not your girlfriend,” he snaps.

Nick doesn’t stop laughing though. “You don’t need to get all het up about it, man. It’s fine. I’m sure he won’t mind. But if you don’t wanna, you don’t wanna.”

Shane will never admit part of the reason he doesn’t want to tag along—besides the obvious one—is that it _will_ feel too much like it’s supposed to be a double date. 

“I mean, it’s not that I don’t wanna,” Shane says, sighing and sitting on the end of his bed. “It’s just… I’m not an All-Star. I’m not family. I’m not, like.” He falters, grasping for a word that describes how he feels without exactly giving away precisely how he feels. 

“You’re my best friend, man,” Nick says. “I invited you here ’cause I couldn’t imagine who else I’d want here with me more, besides my parents and my kid.”

“I dunno, maybe your fiancée?” Shane mutters.

“She’s got her own thing going on,” Nick says. “Outside of my family, you’re the one I wanted to share this with.”

Shane glances over at Nick, his insides getting all tangled and knotty. He clasps his hands between his knees. “I’m honored. Thank you.”

Nick studies Shane for a tick too long, long enough to make Shane start to feel squirmy, like a butterfly pinned and put on display.

Finally, Nick says, “You’re like family to me, man. You know that, right?”

“Of _course_ I know that,” Shane says.

“No bullshitting?” Nick asks.

“No bullshitting,” Shane says.

“All right, well. Just making sure. I wouldn’t trust just anyone with Li,” Nick says. 

Nick gets up and pauses in front of Shane’s bed for a moment. He looks thoughtful, like there’s something more he wants to say that he just can’t get off the tip of his tongue. Shane’s content to wait him out, but Nick just gives a little shake of his head and wanders into the bathroom. A couple minutes later, Shane hears the water start pattering against the tiles and then the door gently clicks shut. 

*** 

Shane finds out about the trade rumors the same as most everybody else, through Twitter.

**Houston Astros Have Their Eye On Detroit Closer Shane Greene**

**What Would It Take for Astros to Land Tigers’ Greene?**

**Indians Eyeing Tigers’ Greene; Could Tribe Snag Closer At the Deadline?**

**Dodgers To Take a Run at Detroit Closer?**

He doesn’t read any of the articles. He leaves the stories unread, sitting in open tabs on his phone browser. 

Shane’s not an idiot. The trade deadline is little over a week away and everyone’s got a bullseye on their back, from Shane to Iggy to Francisco Liriano to Michael Fulmer. Even Nick.

Of all the guys on the team, Shane had thought Nick would be safe. Fulmer was attractive because he still had, like, a hundred years of control left and an affordable contract. Iggy was going to be a free agent after the year but he was a cheap upgrade and might even sign an extension. But Nick was being touted as the next face of the franchise. Shane heard the rumors about the contract extension, everyone did. Why would they try to extend him if they just wanted to sell him off for parts, like the rest of them?

Shane drops by Nick’s place with a case of snobby craft beer Jessica told him Nick likes and he finds him in the backyard with Liam. Nick’s swinging from a tire swing, Liam curled up in his lap, his little hands clutching onto the chain.

Nick’s got one foot dragging in the grass, rocking them back and forth, while he chatters distractedly at someone on his cell phone.

Shane puts the beer on the picnic table on the porch and makes his way over to them. Liam throws his arms up and Shane grins, grabbing him under the armpits and swinging him onto his shoulders.

“Daddy’s talking to David,” Liam says, winding his arms around Shane’s neck.

David is Nick’s agent. Shane frowns.

“Why’s that?” he asks, as he gallops Liam around the backyard.

“People wanna trade for him,” Liam says. “I don’t wanna go. I wanna stay.”

Shane’s stomach explodes in butterflies but he tamps down his reaction for Liam’s sake. “I’m sure it’s nothing, Li,” he says, even though he doesn’t know. 

He feels Liam’s breath skittering over the shell of his ear. It smells spicy, like tabasco sauce.

“I wanna stay,” Liam says again, tightening his arms around Shane’s neck.

Shane squeezes on his little hand, briefly, before gently untangling his arms and setting him in the grass. Shane looks at Liam, putting on his best ‘serious’ face. “It’s gonna be okay. Even if your daddy gets traded. You know why?” he asks.

Liam shakes his head, his blond hair flopping in his eyes.

Shane reaches down and pushes it away from his forehead. “Because that means these other teams love your daddy as much as you and I do. And they really want him to come and win for them. And if he stays here, it means the Tigers loved him enough to keep him.”

Shane figures he’s doing a terrible job explaining all of this when Liam’s lower lip trembles.

He collapses in the grass with a sigh and pats a spot next to him. Liam sits down with a thump and tucks himself under Shane’s arm. They both lie on their backs and look up at the sky and the wispy white clouds that roll slowly overhead. 

Finally, Nick’s voice breaks the peaceful silence. 

“So, that was my agent,” he calls out.

“Yeah?” Shane asks. He plucks up a handful of grass and opens his fingers, letting the blades catch on the wind.

Nick walks over to where Shane and Liam are lying in the grass and looms over them, blotting out the sun. He shoves his hands in his pockets. His gold crucifix dangles around his neck, catching sunlight as it dances on the end of its chain.

“There’s a lotta buzz but no fire,” Nick says. He pauses, licking his lips. “Well, _yet_.”

Shane doesn’t bother correcting him. “What’s that mean?” He sits up slowly and brushes the grass off his shirt. 

“It means, well… St. Louis’s interested but they don’t wanna give up half of what Al’s asking for,” Nick says, kicking his heel in the grass. “And the Dodgers’re sniffing around _and_ they’re willing to talk top prospects but only one and Al wants two. And D.D. and Boston are kicking the tires but Al’s like ‘hell no.’ So, basically, my agent’s like, ‘don’t expect a trade.’”

“If you get traded what happens to the podcast?” Shane asks. It’s a stupid question, pointless and selfish, when Nick’s career is in flux, but Shane can’t help but worry. 

Nick shrugs. “I guess I never thought about that.”

Shane gets to his feet and focuses on brushing non-existent blades of grass off his chest. “Well, I hope neither of us gets traded.”

“Shit, man, me too,” Nick says, barking out a laugh. He bends down and scoops Liam into his arms, tossing him over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, much to Liam’s delight. “SoCal’s nice and St. Louis ain’t too bad, but I like it here. You know? This’s… This place’s my home.”

Shane nods, meeting Nick’s gaze. Detroit’s his home too. He’s got a lot less invested, without the family ties to the city or the whole _future face of the franchise_ thing lurking around, but he likes it here too. He wants to stay.

Liam kicks his legs and squeals, and Nick sets him back down. They both watch Liam run back into the house, throwing himself into Jessica’s arms. The glass door slides shut behind them and then Shane can make out the shape of their silhouettes behind the drawn curtains in the kitchen. 

Something thumps him in the chest and he looks back over at Nick. He drops his arm and shoves his hands in the pockets of his shorts.

“If I get traded though,” Nick says, chewing on the inside of his cheek for a moment. “If I get traded, you’ll make sure Li’s okay. Right?”

“What do you mean?” Shane asks. “And you won’t get traded.”

“I mean, Jess’ll probably come with me to look for a place. But Li’s still got his summer tee-ball thing and then a couple weeks of summer camp after that… My mom’ll be in town to take him to all his games and stuff but, like I said. I trust you.”

For a moment, there’s a flash of unguarded emotion in Nick’s eyes before the steel girders go back up.

“Of course,” Shane says.

But he wants to ask Nick _why. Why me?_

He bites the inside of his cheek, instead, and smiles.

*** 

Nick doesn’t get traded, and neither does Shane. 

Shane’s mostly relieved, but a small, selfish part of him wishes the front office had solved his problem for him. At least if one or both of them had gotten traded Shane would be able to put this all behind him. But no, he still has to see Nick every day when he walks into the clubhouse. It’s like a wound that won’t heal over because he can’t stop scratching at it and he’s not strong enough to just _not_ scratch at it. 

It’s all gonna come to a head at some point, Shane’s self-aware enough to know this. There’s no way Nick doesn’t know, or at least suspect something. 

Shane could probably blow it all up himself just to save them all the trouble, but he actually likes being Nick’s friend. 

Sometimes, though, he wonders why he _is_ Nick’s friend. They don’t have much in common outside of the baseball diamond, really. Nick’s got a fiancée he’s dedicated to, an adorable kid, and a close-knit family. That’s not to say Shane’s family is _unhappy_ or anything, they just do their own thing. Shane’s closer to his bros than he is his older sisters, who are all way older with husbands, families of their own, mortgages, student loans to pay off, all stuff Shane will never have to worry about. 

The team limps into the second half, mangled and broken, staring down the prospects of a one-hundred loss season. People are dissecting all the players like cadavers, looking for the rot, looking for some root to all their problems that’s easily fixed. The truth is pretty simple: they just aren’t a good team and there _is_ no easy fix. 

Shane blows a save—his sixth of the year so far, but who’s counting—and it somehow feels worse than the others. 

Nobody likes playing in Oakland to begin with, then add to that the jet lag, the stifling heat, the stupid vuvuzelas and noisemakers, the thin trickle of offense, the awful Coliseum, and the clubhouse feels like it’s been stuffed full of dynamite and Shane has a match in his hand. 

Everyone’s tiptoeing around him and avoiding eye contract like they’re afraid his suck will start to spread. And, honestly, he gets it. Most closers like to be left alone after a blown save, but Shane’s never been like that. Insulated, closed off. 

It chafes at him. It chafes at him as he showers methodically in a lonely stall while his teammates chatter around him. It chafes at him as he dresses in front of his locker, dripping onto the carpet. It chafes at him as he grabs his keys and looks around for Nick but everyone’s already cleared out. 

When they’re at home, Shane usually goes over to Nick’s place after games. On the road, he usually pops into Nick’s room to hang out, watch some pay-per-view TV, and empty out his minibar.

Tonight, Shane feels sick and restless. 

He wants to do something stupid.

Shane calls for a ride and, while he waits, he pulls up Google on his phone and taps out “sf ca gay bar” with lightly trembling fingers. 

A few minutes later, a sleek, shark-like gray Lexus pulls up to the curb and Shane tosses himself into the backseat in an exhausted heap. The driver—an older man with black, beetle-like eyes—watches him in the rearview mirror like he thinks Shane might be drunk or going to cause trouble or something. 

They’ve got an afternoon game tomorrow, so they have to be at the park a little earlier than usual. Shane knows he should tell the driver to just take him back to the hotel.

But something inside him feels like it’s going to crack open like an egg if he goes back there right now. If he runs into Nick at the hotel he doesn’t know what he’ll do. 

Shane mumbles an address and the driver eyeballs him again, something sharp and knowing glinting in his eyes. Shane pulls his wallet out of his back pocket, fishes out a couple fifties, and tosses them up front. The guy looks down at them, shrugs, and stuffs the money in his pocket before putting the car in **drive** and pulling away from the curb. 

The place Shane ends up at doesn’t really look like any gay bar he’s ever seen on TV. It just looks like a… well, a bar. A saloon, if he’s feeling generous. He can hear muffled music and the low hum of cars rumbling past on the highway. He wonders what kind of bar he’d been expecting when he pulled the address on Google.

After giving the driver another wad of cash, Shane hops out and surveys his surroundings.

He probably should have worn a hat or something, just to make himself look a little more inconspicuous, but it’s not like he’s recognizable. The guys who frequent this particular bar probably have no idea who he is. 

Shane approaches the entrance, his soles crunching over gravel. It reminds him of the warning track that lines the Comerica Park outfield.

The door swings open and two men stumble out, laughing giddily, their hands clasped and their fingers laced. Their closeness feels like an electric shock, something jolting through Shane’s bloodstream at the sight. Like maybe he could actually be allowed to hold somebody’s hand too, if only within the confines of these walls. 

The men eyeball Shane but recognition doesn’t spark in their eyes. They don’t pull out pens and ask for autographs. They just smile and nod and pass him by, and Shane’s never been happier to be ordinary. 

He strides forward, dirt and gravel turning up under his heels, and steps into the bar. The first thing he notices is the sound of pool balls cracking together, then glasses clinking and some old-school, outlaw country twanging over loudspeakers mounted on the walls. The second thing he notices is no one notices him. A couple barflies glance over when he steps in and the doors slam shut behind him, but there’s no spark of recognition behind their—slightly droopy, drunken—eyes. 

Shane pulls up a spot at the bar next to one of the drunks and orders a Miller Light—the guy next to him chuffs out a laugh—and glances around. If Shane didn’t know any better, he’d think this was just another bar. 

The country music switches to something upbeat, electronic, and jangly, and the two drunks slide off polymer barstools, hand in hand. 

Watching the two of them sway into one another makes Shane’s palms sweat, so he wipes them off on his jeans. 

When he looks up, he notices a mounted TV replaying his blown save against the A’s. 

“Hey.” A gravelly voice cuts off his fight-or-flight response at seeing a version of himself getting pummeled by Khris Davis and Jed Lowrie. “Haven’t seen you in here before.”

Shane looks over and tips his chin up. “I’m just passing through,” he says. He holds his hand out. “I’m Shane. You?”

“Amadeo,” the guy says, wrapping a warm hand around Shane’s and pumping enthusiastically. Before Shane can ask, he says, “Portuguese. Born in Brazil. My friends call me Dedo.”

He’s nice looking, tan and square-jawed and broad in the shoulders, with wavy black hair and warm dark eyes. Shane feels weird for looking—weird for wanting to keep looking—but his new friend looks right back, so he must not mind the view.

“Nice to meet you,” Shane says, gently extracting his hand and putting it back around his beer. “I’m not really familiar with…” He trails off and lifts his bottle, gesturing around them. 

“Bars?” Dedo asks. 

Shane snorts out a surprised laugh. “No. I mean, uh… You know. The whole gay scene. The bar thing.”

“The bar thing,” Dedo echoes.

Shane wipes his hands off on his jeans again. He feels like some giant came along and tied his guts into knots. “I feel like this is going really bad now,” he says, laughing a little nervously. He keeps rubbing his hands on his jeans. “This is all pretty new to me.”

Dedo nods slowly. “It’s okay,” he says. His hand comes to rest on Shane’s arm, squeezing gently, reassuringly.

Shane doesn’t know if it really _is_ okay, but he wants it to be.

He likes to think that he could have a place like this back home, where he can just take all the walls down. He used to kid himself into thinking he could do that with Nick. But he’ll never understand this facet of Shane’s life, no matter how hard he tries (if he tries at all). Nick’s never had to question his attraction to women, or painstakingly analyze every interaction of his to make sure he doesn’t give himself away. Nick is his best friend, but he’ll never understand this. 

Shane glances down at the back of Dedo’s hand where it rests over his arm. He feels almost bold, almost brave. If he were anyone else—if he had any other job—he’d ask Dedo to come back to the hotel with him.

Such as it is, he’s going to leave this bar alone, but he doesn’t mind. 

Shane downs a couple beers and crushes a plate of nachos, then brings up the rideshare app on his phone and taps for a car. Dedo’s warmth is a comfortable presence as he continues to nurse his drink. 

“Heading off?” he asks, when Shane slides off the stool.

“Yeah, gotta get back before curfew,” he says.

“Curfew?” Dedo raises his eyebrows.

“It’s for my job,” Shane says, glancing back down at his phone for a moment. He brings up his contacts and holds it out. “Plug your name and number in and maybe we can hang out sometime when I come back into town later.” 

Dedo takes the phone from Shane and starts typing. “Whaddaya do?” he asks, handing the phone back. 

“Classified info,” Shane lies, but he smiles and winks just to let him know it’s not that serious. 

After they finish exchanging numbers, Shane checks the app and sees that his car is here. He tosses off a hasty farewell and heads out.

Shane climbs into the backseat and gives the driver the address for the team’s hotel. He tips his head back against the padded headrest and lets his eyes slip shut. 

He can still see the shape of Dedo’s shoulders and the curve of his smile. 

*** 

_“Hey, guys! Six One Nine coming to you live from Comerica Park, where the grounds crew is currently getting the field fit for consumption.”_

_“About to open a pivotal two-game series against the Cubs tonight.”_

_“We’re hitting the home stretch now, you guys. This’s it. This’s the final countdown.”_

_“Stop singing, Nick.”_

_“My mom tells me I have a lovely voice.”_

_“Your mom is lying to you.”_

_“My mom would never tell a lie.”_

_“You poor, misguided, tone-deaf fool.”_

_“Ha ha. Anyways. We have a big show planned. Gonna discuss a wide range of topics, including current events in both the sports world and the world at large. First up, let’s talk about Pride Night.”_

_“What?”_

_“Pride Night. I guess it’s the first one the team’s doing? At least, the first official one. Twitter’s all abuzz over it, from what I’m told. I don’t have a twitter account so I haven’t seen it for myself, but apparently—”_

_“I know what Pride Night is. But why are we talking about it?”_

_“Because one of the organizers is coming on to promote it, dude.”_

_“Oh.”_

_“So, yeah. Now that we’ve got that out of the way… Oh, hey guys, Kelly’s here to talk about the Tigers’ first official Pride Night and what you can expect when you come down to the ballpark tomorrow!”_

*** 

After they’re done recording, Shane rips off his headphones and bolts out of the studio to go buy himself a Coke from the soda machine in the hall. 

He feels like the floor’s dropped out from under him and his stomach’s up in his throat and the rest of him is in a freefall. 

He’s not even sure why he feels so rattled right now. Nick doesn’t _know_. 

The doors open a couple minutes later and Nick emerges, his dark hair sticking up in a million different directions like he got static shocked. He reaches up and tugs at a flyaway chunk of hair, flattening it down.

“Hey,” Nick calls out, trotting over. “You all right?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Shane asks, pumping a couple more quarters into the machine for another drink.

“I dunno. You seemed weirded out by the Pride Night thing,” Nick says. “It was on the itinerary. Didn’t you look at it last night?”

“I was busy,” Shane says, watching as a robotic arm grabs a bottle of Coke and drops it through a chute with a clunk. Shane stoops down and retrieves the bottle, offering it to Nick. “Went out for some drinks. So, no. I didn’t look at it.”

Nick snags the Coke and rips it open. “Sorry, man. I just assumed. I would’ve said something if I knew.”

“It’s okay,” Shane says. He feels unmoored, like the ground is shifting under his feet and he can’t get a steady foothold. And he’s not sure where this conversation is going and he _hates_ that he has no idea where it’s going. “I’m fine, it’s fine.”

Nick looks at him skeptically over his bottle. “Riiiight.”

Shane uncaps his Coke and takes a long slug. It burns down his throat and brings tears to his eyes that he rapidly blinks away. 

Sighing, Nick leans against the wall, his bottle dangling from his fingers. “You wanna tell me what’s going on with you, Greeney? You’ve been—”

“Do _not_ say ‘weird,’” Shane mutters, glaring at Nick.

“I wasn’t gonna say weird,” Nick says, feathers rustling some. “I was gonna say… Okay, yeah, you’ve been weird lately. Like, I get it. It’s a long, shitty season. But you’ve never been weird with _me_ and this year you have been.”

Shane opens his mouth to respond, then pauses. Does Nick actually _not_ know? If Nick doesn’t know how Shane feels—doesn’t know that Shane is into dudes—maybe this is his ‘get out of jail free’ card.

“I, uh…” Shane snaps his mouth shut. 

Nick sets his Coke bottle on top of the machine and cracks his knuckles. Shane frowns and he can hear the steady percussion of his heartbeat drumming in his ears now. 

“Here’s what I think, stop me if I’m wrong,” Nick says, dropping his hands. “I think you got something weighing on your mind. For a while now.”

“Can we not do this right now?” Shane asks, his shoulders slumping. 

“Am I right?” Nick prompts.

Shane glares at him, but Nick just squares his jaw and glares right back. He can feel himself wilting under Nick’s steady gaze and how the fuck does he even do that?

Finally, Shane cuts his gaze away and rubs uneasily at the back of his neck. 

“Suppose there is,” he says. “Now what?”

“I think it’d make things a whole hell of a lot better if you just got over yourself,” Nick says, and Shane turns his head and stares. Nick lifts his palms. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“What the fuck is that even supposed to mean?” Shane asks.

“Look, man. I don’t care,” Nick says, taking a step closer, and then another. He puts a hand out like to Shane like he’s a skittish animal he’s got to corral. “You’re my best friend. Whatever you think you can’t tell me… you can tell me.”

Shane doesn’t realize he’s backing away from Nick until his shoulder hits the corner of the pop machine. “You wouldn’t understand, man.”

Nick rakes a hand down his face and groans. “I know you think telling me is gonna bring on the zombie fucking apocalypse or something, but newsflash genius. It’s not. There’s literally _nothing_ you can tell me that’s gonna change anything between us.”

Nick leaves his hand up, palm out, his eyes almost pleading with Shane to—to what? Tell him that he has feelings for him? Feelings they both know Nick won’t and can’t reciprocate? 

Shane rubs his hands over his face and groans loudly into his palms. 

“You so sure about that, Casty?” Shane asks, lowering his hands.

Nick just shakes his head at him. “If you’re about to tell me you killed a guy, I’m gonna say ‘I’ll get my shovel.’”

That startles a laugh out of Shane and, just like that, he feels like he can actually do this. He can actually just _tell_ Nick everything and Nick really won’t ditch him. They’ll work through it because they’re best friends, and Shane won’t have to shoulder the burden on his own anymore 

“Nick… You gotta promise me—” Shane starts, but Nick cuts him off.

“I promise. Cross my heart, hope to die. All that good stuff.” Nick draws an ‘X’ over his heart.

Shane laughs softly. “You didn’t let me finish, asshole.”

“I know. Get to talking,” Nick says.

Shane leans back against the Coke machine and mentally shuffles through the last year or so of his life. “I like you, man,” he says, dropping his gaze to the empty space between their feet. “Like, this is so fucking stupid. But I like you. And it’s kinda been eating me up inside. Has been for months. I just…”

Shane pauses, lifting his eyes, to find Nick just shaking his head at him. For a split-second, he thinks Nick is upset. That Nick can’t handle hearing it. But then he reaches out, grabs Shane by the back of the neck and pulls him into his shoulder in a slightly awkward hug. 

Shane rests a hand on Nick’s back and closes his eyes. He takes in a big breath and lets it go. Then does it again.

“It’s okay, dude,” Nick says, squeezing the back of Shane’s neck. “I’m sorry you felt like you couldn’t tell me.”

Shane laughs into Nick’s shoulder, muffled. “I… Uh, thanks, I think,” he says.

Nick steps back, holding Shane by the shoulders. He gives him a gentle shake. “You’re such a fucking asshole, Greeney. You know that?” he says, but he sounds fond and the corners of his mouth are curving up. 

Shane laughs a little and reaches up to rub a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I know. But what are you gonna do about it?” 

Nick laughs too and punches Shane in the shoulder. “Never said I didn’t like it.” Nick grins. “I’m an asshole too. It works.”

Shane smiles a little and reaches up to rub his shoulder where Nick got him. “Yeah, it does.”

*** 

The season ends on a whimper a little while later when they drop all six of their final roadtrip. 

It was a difficult season in more ways than one, but Shane’s already looking forward to next year. Miggy will be back next year and they’ll have another season of Gardy. They probably won’t win the division, but stranger things have happened.

Shane is parked in front of his locker, sweeping stuff into a cardboard box when a piece of paper flutters to the ground. He bends down and picks it up, flattening it over his thigh. 

He realizes it’s Dedo’s name and number. Shane had written them down on a scrap of paper and then deleted them out of his phone in one of his more paranoid moments and he’d completely forgotten about it. 

Shane shoves the piece of paper in his pocket, tucks his box under his arm and heads out to the players’ parking structure for his truck. Nick and Jessica are waiting by the curb, each holding onto one of Liam’s hands. Liam spots Shane and slips away from them, and Jessica glances up in alarm. But when she sees it’s Shane, she smiles and nudges Nick in the shoulder.

“Uncle Shane!” Liam hollers.

Shane smiles and sets his box down. “Li, my man.” He opens his arms and Liam catapults himself into Shane’s chest. 

“We’re going to Disneyworld,” Liam says, wrapping his skinny little arms around Shane’s neck. “Daddy’s gonna take me on all the roller coasters! And the Magic Kingdom!” 

“Sounds fun, little man,” Shane says, grinning at Nick and Jessica over Liam’s shoulder. “You should make Daddy take you on the Tower of Terror.”

“Aw, hell no. Fu—ow!” Nick rubs his shoulder and glances over at Jessica. “Forget that, man. No way.”

Shane laughs and lets Liam down, holding out his hand. “You better bring me back a souvenir,” he says. “How ’bout one of those Mickey hats with the ears. Deal?”

“Deal!” Liam slaps Shane’s outstretched hand before turning and running back to Nick and Jessica.

Nick nods at Shane. “What about you? What’re you gonna do over the offseason?”

Shane thinks about the piece of crumpled paper in his pocket. “Besides getting ready for you guys’ big day?”

“That’s what’s most important,” Nick says, smirking. “You better be writing a fu—freakin’ awesome best friend toast.”

“Isn’t Ryan doing it?” Shane asks.

“You’re both doing ’em,” Nick says. “Best man, best friend, everyone gets a speech. I think even Mac’s doing one.”

“Oh, Mac’s doing one too? Forget that,” Shane says, nudging Nick in the shoulder playfully.

Nick shoves him back. “Hater.”

“That’s me. Hater’s gonna hate.” Shane grins and steps back, picking his box up and resting it on his hip. “See you guys around.”

“See you, Greeney.” Nick nods at Shane and tips the brim of his cap at him. Then he slips his arm around Jessica’s waist and the three of them head off in the opposite direction.

Shane watches after the three of them for few minutes before heading to his truck.

*** 

A couple weeks after the season ends, Shane’s doing a load of laundry when he digs the piece of paper with Dedo’s number out of the pocket of his pants. After a moment’s pause, he pulls his phone out and fires off a text.

Dedo  
  
hey u probably dont remember me but im shane, we met at the Gold Dust bar in sf a few weeks ago. Ive finally got some free time and i was wondering if u wanted to meet up  
  
Hi Shane, I do rmemeber you! I’d love to get together sometime.  
  
excellent, cant wait  
  
Do you like to surf?  
  
not really a big fan of the ocean cuz of all the sharks and stuff but i could def be talked into it  
  
Im gonna have to work on you, I think :)  
  
sounds like a plan :)  
  


***

_“So this is it, you guys. This is the last podcast until… what, February? March?”_

_“Dude, no. We gotta do one at my wedding.”_

_“Okay, yeah. So this is gonna be the last podcast until November. What are you gonna be doing during your offseason, Nick? Besides getting married, I mean.”_

_“Well, me and Jess are gonna honeymoon in Cabo with the fam for a week. Then we’re heading out to Lakeland around the New Year so I can get started on my offseason training regimen. What about you, Greeney? Got any plans?”_

_“I’m heading back to Miami the second week of November for my best friend’s wedding. He’s marrying this awesome girl and I’m standing up for him. Gotta write a big speech and everything, lot of pressure. After that I’ll probably go home to Orlando for a couple weeks, then I’m heading out to San Fran for some sun and fun.”_

_“San Fran? What’s out there on the West Coast?”_

_“Yeah, so I got a friend out there who’s gonna teach me how to surf. He wants to go skydiving too but I told him no freaking way.”_

_“Shit, yeah, man. I don’t blame ya. But surfing, that’ll be fun.”_

_“You gonna miss doing the podcast with me, Casty?”_

_“Of course I will, Shane-jamin.”_

_“Shane-jamin? Oh my **God**.”_

**Author's Note:**

> The author of this piece intends no insult, slander, or copyright infringement, and is not profiting from this work. This story is a complete work of fiction and does not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. This is for entertainment purposes only. **If you found this story while Googling your name or the names of your friends, hit the back button now.**


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